


In Case You Shake Apart (and Want a Brand New Start)

by CitrusVanille



Series: Video Killed the Radio Star [6]
Category: McFly
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-05
Updated: 2008-11-05
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: "So fucking hot like this," Harry breathes into Tom's ear.





	In Case You Shake Apart (and Want a Brand New Start)

Harry groans against Tom’s mouth, lips parting, and Tom takes the opportunity to push his tongue past Harry’s teeth, deepening the kiss. Harry’s still holding Tom’s wrists, and Tom struggles against him – wants to touch – but Harry won’t let go.

Tom makes a frustrated noise and bites into Harry’s bottom lip – not quite hard enough to pierce the skin, but hard enough to sting. Harry’s fingers tighten in Tom’s hair in retaliation, pulling him closer, making Tom’s arms ache from the strain of the angle. Harry’s practically in his lap, the material of his jeans rough against Tom’s bare legs, making him shiver.

“Fuck, I want –” Tom gasps, tearing his mouth away from Harry’s, lips still moving against skin they’re so close, sweat salty-sweet on his tongue.

Harry groans again, and the hand in Tom’s hair releases, drags down across his chest – the shift of fabric over his skin making Tom shudder against him – slips under the waistband of Tom’s boxers.

“Oh, fuck,” Tom hisses when Harry’s fingers close over his cock. He arches up into the touch, ignoring the pull on his muscles, because _fuck_ it feels good. And it’s just a _hand_. But it’s someone _else_ ’s hand – it’s _Harry_ ’s hand – and he will never understand it, but it always feels so much better when it’s someone else touching him – calluses from playing drums different from his own guitar calluses, and _fuck_. Harry twists his wrist, his breath hot against the side of Tom’s face, teeth scraping over his jaw, and Tom arches into him again, eyes falling closed, biting down on his own lip to keep the _please, please_ from tumbling free.

“So fucking hot like this,” Harry breathes into Tom’s ear, flicks his tongue against Tom’s gauge, and Tom can’t help the moan that bubbles up from his chest.

Harry shifts, weight resting for a moment on the hand pressing Tom’s wrists to the chair back, and it fucking _hurts_. Even worse, Harry’s other hand has somehow removed itself from Tom’s boxers.

Tom has about half a second in which to get supremely brassed off before he hears the rasp of a zip, feels the scrape of denim dragging against his legs, and then the weight on Tom’s wrists eases as Harry settles, straddling Tom’s thighs in just his boxers, knees pressed tight to Tom’s hips.

“Harry, please –” the words spill out before Tom can stop them, and he bites down hard on Harry’s neck to keep from outright begging.

Harry’s breath hitches when Tom’s teeth sink in, and, “Oh God _fuck_ ,” he hisses. His fingers tighten around Tom’s wrists, pressing them together so hard Tom can feel the bones grate against each other, but Tom doesn’t care – can’t – because Harry’s other hand is back around Tom’s cock, and –

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Tom pants against Harry’s neck, hips arching up, and he’s so fucking close –

“Come on,” Harry’s lips brush Tom’s ear, his jaw, his cheek, breath making Tom shiver against him. “So hot. Want to see you come.”

Tom whimpers, can’t help it – so close – hips pushing up as hard as he can as Harry’s hand speeds up, tightens. Tom’s arms hurt like hell from the strain, but even that just pushes him along –

“Want you – want to see you, Tom – come for me,” Harry breathes against Tom’s mouth, tongue tracing across his lips, and Tom can only gasp, head falling back against the chair, as he shudders and breaks apart.

Harry’s shaking against him when Tom starts to come down, face buried in Tom’s shoulder. It takes Tom’s blissed-out brain several seconds to realize that one of Harry’s hands is still griping his wrists and the other is fisted in the hem of his shirt, backs of his fingers against Tom’s skin. Tom’s breath catches in his throat, because – _holy shit_ – Harry hasn’t touched himself, is coming from making Tom come and that is just. _Holy fucking shit_.

By the time Harry comes down, Tom’s brain is functioning enough to acknowledge that his arms are killing him, and his wrists are going to be covered in bruises. “Can you –” he tugs against Harry’s restraining grip, and feels Harry’s huff of laughter against his neck as Harry releases him. Tom lowers his arms carefully, wincing as his tense muscles protest any kind of movement before they relax, the pain easing.

“You,” Harry starts, but doesn’t get any further, just huffs another laugh against Tom’s skin.

Tom shivers a little, skin still extra-sensitive, and curls one of his liberated hands into Harry’s short hair, jerking his head back to look him in the eye. “Me,” he says, and he’s not really sure if it’s a question or a prompt, but.

“So fucking amazing,” Harry says, and whether it’s an answer or a continuation, Tom doesn’t know or care. He tightens his fingers, sees Harry’s eyelids flutter, and – they should move, clean up, talk about this, but – he can’t help but tug Harry forward, bite into his bottom lip and then lick into his mouth, hot and wet and so fucking _good_.

Tom slides his other hand around to press into the small of Harry’s back, just where his shirt rides up, fingertips skating over sweaty smooth skin. Harry’s hands skim up Tom’s chest under his shirt, making Tom’s muscles jump under his touch.

“We should –” Tom forces himself to break away, to try to regulate his breathing.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, “We should.” But he presses in again, mouth to mouth, and.

_We really should,_ Tom thinks, but then Harry’s tongue is tangling with his and it’s fucking good. It’s so fucking, _fucking_ good. He pulls Harry in harder, hears him moan – feels it against his chest, tastes it on his lips – and. They can deal with everything else later.


End file.
